


all i wanted was something beautiful

by sapphire2309



Series: if you weren't mine i'd be jealous of your love [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: D/s, F/M, Femdom, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kneeling, Passive Suicidality, Post-Canon, Power Dynamics, Semi-public scene, Set during the timeskip, author has a breathplay kink, drunk scene, flagrant abuse of italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26013034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/pseuds/sapphire2309
Summary: Jace is left holding his heart in his hands, pouring shot after shot down his throat to try and pretend he doesn't need to give it to anyone, that he isn't raw and vulnerable and there for the taking of just about anyone willing to tolerate his presence.Or: In which Jace forgets the fundamental nature of waves and rocks.
Relationships: Jace Herondale/Maia Roberts
Series: if you weren't mine i'd be jealous of your love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888075
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	all i wanted was something beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Monster by Meg Myers. The vibe of this fic is more Welcome Home by Radical Face though.
> 
> Okay. Listen. I've been fussing over this fic for _way_ too long, just ask Krit, she'll tell you all about it. (Thank you for cheering me on when I needed it, btw!) But I'm fairly certain that this is as perfect as I can get it, so, uh. Here you go? I hope you like it!
> 
> (There will be a sequel, but it won't be soon. I've learned to let myself take my time with these things.)

Jace has this tendency to give over control of his heart and soul to anyone he deems worthy in the moment, without informing them. Ever since being raised by Michael- by _Valentine,_ he's had that place carved out and ready. And then, Maryse and the Clave gently stepped into it, both dictators, but still far more benevolent than Valentine ever was, and ever since then, he just... gives himself away. He gave himself to Alec, and then to Clary, and nearly tore himself apart trying to be loyal to them both. 

Valentine tried to take it again, demanded it, expecting it to be the same as ever, expecting him to fall in line and be good little Jonathan Wayland with the right series of tugs to his heartstrings. But it had been irrevocably changed, by Alec's unshakeable faith, by Clary's limitless gentility, and Valentine simply didn't fit right anymore. It took time, but he found his way back. Found a way to love both Alec and Clary and not lose both in the process.

And then, Lilith. Lilith _took._ Lilith took _everything,_ and he had no way of stopping her.

And he was just done clawing his way back from _that_ when the Angel took Clary from him, right when Magnus claimed Alec's heart. And Alec is gracious and generous, he has more than enough love in his heart for both Magnus and Jace, and Isabelle too, no one ever accused him of being an insufficient big brother, but even _he_ doesn't have space enough for all of them _and_ the role of Inquisitor, and that is something that needs him more than Jace does. 

And he would move to Alicante to be Alec's right hand in a heartbeat. 

Except, Clary. Someone needs to watch over Clary. And he doesn't trust any eyes but his own.

All in all, that leaves him holding his heart in his hands, pouring shot after shot down his throat to try and pretend he doesn't need to give it to anyone, that he isn't raw and vulnerable and there for the taking of just about anyone willing to tolerate his presence.

Of course, people notice.

Kaelie clearly had friends who were aware of his, uh, _book club,_ because before he's been out and drowning his sorrows for more than a week, there's a Seelie woman brushing back his hair and cooing in his ear, and he thinks, _Why not. Why in this angel-damned realm not._

He lets her tug at his hair, tilt his head up, mouth at his jugular, and he thinks she tipped something fae into his shot glass before raising it to his lips but he is so far beyond caring about any of that. He parts his lips, ready to accept whatever fate she deems appropriate for him, when suddenly there's no one touching him and the faint warmth he'd absorbed from her instantly dissipates into chills. He opens his eyes and draws breath, ready to indignantly protest whatever took away the first warmth he's felt in what must be an _age,_ when he sees Maia, all righteous fury, eyes flashing green as she hauls the Seelie out of her bar. 

"You," he informs her when she comes to check on him, "should have let her kill me."

Maia rolls her eyes, moving his face around by the chin and looking for... something, he doesn't know. "If I thought that's all she would have done, I might have let her," she says in that particular put-upon voice he likes to think of as reserved for him. 

"Really," Jace asks flatly, expecting more verbal sparring. 

But instead of parrying back, she gets serious. "No," she says, tilting his head down so he's eye to eye with her, and it's not wholly unexpected, but it's still a shock to the system. "I don't care that you're a shadowhunter, Shadowhunter. No one drugs drinks in my bar."

Jace is clearly still drunk on tequila and sorrow, because he's unable to stop a little sob from escaping his lips at that. He squeezes his eyes shut and leans into her touch, because as functional as it is, it's still warm, still gentle, and he'll take anything he's given right now. 

He hears Maia grumble to herself before she's hauling him up and out the back. He... lets her take him. He's too tired to do much else. 

Soon enough, he finds himself slumped against a wall in the back, her hand on his thigh. 

Well. He can live with that. 

He lets his legs fall apart, only to get an irritated nudge in return. He cracks his eyes open. 

_Oh._

She's trying to get his stele out of its holster, and burning her hand in the process. 

He bats her hand away and pulls it out. Then looks at it for a long moment. "What'm I doing?"

Maia huffs, annoyed. "One of these runes has got to be able to get you sober."

"Oh. Right." He absently draws his stele over his Awareness rune, inhaling sharply as it kicks in. "Not sober, but clearheaded, yeah." 

"Okay. Who do I call for you?"

He startles. "What?"

"You're spectacularly drunk, and not exactly keeping yourself safe. I'm still on the clock, and I have a barful of half-drunk Downworlders to get back to. So. Who do I call?"

Sobs choke the back of his throat again, but this time he swallows them down angrily. "Izzy's sleeping after a day and a half, don't disturb her."

Maia sighs tiredly. "I can't just leave you here, Jace."

_No._

"Please don't," he manages, voice choked.

Maia looks concerned. "I'm not going to," she says, and she hasn't lied to him yet, but he still doesn't believe her. 

He should hit up his Clarity rune too. His hand twitches towards it. 

He shoves the stele back into its holster and reaches urgently for Maia's hand. "Please don't leave me," he begs, not sure if what's taken over him is madness or desperation. "I'll... I'll kneel for you. You'll know where I am, and I'll stay out of the way. I'll be good, I swear, you won't even know I'm there." 

His eyes are skittering over every plane of her face, picking up every fragment of expression. She's concerned, caught off guard, a bit confused, and before that list can grow any further he shuts his eyes and bumps his head into the wall behind him repeatedly, trying to knock some sense back into himself.

He stops, startled, when he hits something that doesn't feel like wall. 

Maia. 

Her hand's behind his head, stopping him from hurting himself any more. She's so close he can see flecks of brown in her dark irises. 

He would be crying if he knew how.

"You sure?" she asks, in a voice that's low and clear and goes straight to his hindbrain and demands an honest response.

"Yeah," he says.

"You, Jace Herondale, Shadowhunter war hero, want to kneel for me, the Alpha of the New York wolf pack, in front of a barful of Downworlders?"

"Yeah," he says again, and suddenly it feels too honest. He swallows. Tries for humour. "Me, drunk off my ass, kneeling for a beautiful woman? Must be Tuesday."

Maia laughs lightly. "Fair point." She's still assessing him, though. Looking for something. 

(He hopes he's found worthy.)

Her hand in his hair is soothing, the nails scratching lightly against his scalp. He leans into it. Tries not to think too hard about what she'll decide.

"Okay," she says finally. "Let's go."

He doesn't have time to be surprised as she pulls him to his feet and leads him back into the Hunter's Moon. She takes him behind the bar instead of depositing him in a seat, and he falls to his knees as soon as he's able, presses his nose into her hip, and just... floats. 

It's such an immense _relief._

He knows she doesn't move a lot behind the bar; everything's arranged in a neat circle around her for maximum efficiency, and having a melted Jace glued to her side doesn't impede her any. He doesn't let it: he moves _with_ her. He's a wave, not a rock. He exists relative to her. Shapes himself against her. She's barely ruffled by him, but she's his everything.

Just the way it's meant to be.

He basks in this blissful calm through it all: her entire shift at the Hunter's Moon, a walk to the subway station, the ride back to her stop, the walk to her place; and then she deposits him on her couch and sits across from him in an armchair and he's facing her, and he finds that all traces of liquor have been burnt out of his system, and he's stone cold sober and _alone._

Well. Maia's right there, watching him quietly with kind, fathomless eyes. She raises her eyebrows at him in a silent question, but otherwise doesn't pressure him at all, just settles in with a box of Chinese food she must have acquired at some point.

"You didn't have to do that for me," he manages to say. "Thank you."

She rolls her eyes at that, and he has to wince and raise an apologetic hand. Maia never does anything she doesn't want to. 

"So?" she says, making the question somewhat explicit and entirely unavoidable. Jace grimaces. _Thanks for that,_ he thinks in her general direction.

"I, ah-" _Come on. Just say it._ "I. Like having orders? To follow. I mean, it's... nice." 

He can't look at her while forcing this out. He doesn't want to risk the possibility of something intolerable like _pity._ Thankfully, she doesn't say anything, just lets him take a minute to breathe.

"And Alec's gone and Clary's Mundane again and I don't.... have any. Orders. Or directions. Or anything. And Izzy's... it's not the same. She's my baby sister. I'm supposed to protect her, not need her."

_Izzy._

Suddenly, the silence isn't a kindness. It weighs on him, choking, suffocating. 

"And, I mean, given how many Seelies are out for my blood, I'm not about to put out a Dominatrix Wanted ad," he says, before he can think better of it. 

Maia snorts lightly, amused, and suddenly he can breathe again. 

He turns to look at her, somewhat confident that it won't hurt. She's studying him with a cool, analytical gaze, and it doesn't _hurt,_ but even so, his skin begins to prickle. 

"So you need a Domme," she says, and he finds himself nodding. "What about me?" she enquires casually, as though she hasn't blown his world open with just that one question. 

Jace's heart tightens in his chest. He wants that, _desperately,_ and he's not sure he'd survive it if she's not serious.

"If you're joking, then... don't," he manages, weakly.

Maia's gaze briefly sharpens into a glare. "I'm serious. I've done this before. I've had practice. I can give you this, if you want."

" _Please,_ " he manages, leaning as far forward as he can without actually leaving his seat. 

Still holding his gaze, Maia puts her carton of food aside and reaches a hand out to him, palm up.

Jace falls gracelessly to his knees, breath leaving him in a rush. He shuffles forward till he can press his lips to her wrist and anchor himself against her legs.

"That's it," she says gently. "Breathe." She ruffles his hair gently with her fingertips. 

And that's easy enough, so Jace does. Breathes. Counts to four with each inhale and exhale. Settles _down._

A thought pops into his head out of nowhere, and he says it without thinking. "This feels like it's all for me. What do you get out of this?"

Maia hums contemplatively, distracts him by scratching at his scalp lightly as she thinks. "I get _you,_ " she says, and that knocks the breath out of him all over again. "You give yourself over to me. Trust me to keep you safe. Don't you?" 

He nods blindly. 

She cards a stray lock of hair out of his face. "Do you know how _good_ that feels?" she says, stretching out every word like this is something important, like she wants him to _understand._

He shakes his head. He doesn't try to hide the glimmer of tears in his eyes. Blinking them back is a waste of time when her gaze feels like it's penetrating straight through to his _soul._

"It is _such_ a rush," she confesses. "Looking at you, kneeling for _me,_ right now?" She inhales sharply, eyes raking over him like he's something that _pleases_ her, her pupils dilated like she's _affected,_ and he can barely believe it. 

"You look _good,_ " she says, finally. "You look comfortable and content and _safe,_ and I want to _keep_ you here."

And that does it. He can't hold back any longer. He lets go, hides his face against her knee and lets out these pathetic little whimpers he's been choking back all this time, and thank the Angel, she doesn't stop carding her hands through his hair and murmuring sweet nothings through it all.

And he does notice when he starts to dip into sleep, but he does nothing to stop it and she doesn't make him, and maybe, despite everything, the Angel has some mercy left over for him after all.


End file.
